


Alive

by Gandalfgirl579



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Edwardian, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Alternate Universe - Zombies, Angst, Body Horror, Cannibalism, Drug Use, Edwardian Period, Erumarie, Erurie, Erwin just wants all the things he can't have :/, Fantasy, Forbidden Love, Gothic, Horror, Lots of talk about death, Magic, Multi, Necromancy, One-sided Mike/Erwin, Penny Dreadful - Freeform, Raising the Dead, Resurrection, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Undead, Victorian, Zombies, eruri - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-03 05:32:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5278589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gandalfgirl579/pseuds/Gandalfgirl579
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Behind the lovely brick façade of the cottage on Brompton Road lived a handsome gentleman of rather uncommon ability. Before the fireplace, at the gentleman’s behest, sat an undertaker, sewing up the torn throat of a dead woman. She shuddered when the needle pierced her skin.</p><p>A Victorian-Edwardian zombie AU, in which Erwin is an amateur necromancer, Marie is his first successful resurrection, and Levi is an undertaker who finds himself in charge of the newly-revived Marie's "maintenance." Primarily eruri, with a side of unreciprocated Erwin x Marie/erumarie</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_It's alive_! was too dramatic, Erwin thought, and so he simply smiled quietly to himself as his dead lover shivered back to life on the cold examination table.

 

All around her lovely corpse, his equipment sprawled: Bowls of liquids and bowls of solids and bowls of fresh meat that had somehow spoiled in the ten minutes the ritual had taken.

 

It _had_ been ten minutes, hadn't it?

 

Erwin spared a glance up at the window of his home's tower room. On the other side of the leaded, wavy glass, the sky was a rather remarkable shade of crimson. Sailors take warning, he thought wryly. Necromancers take pride.

 

He'd begun at sundown, just as the moon was peeking her pale, round face over the myriad chimneys that made up the London skyline. The stars had not shown themselves yet.

 

Had it truly taken all night?

 

The scent seemed to say so, and Erwin wrinkled his nose.

 

That smell was made nearly tolerable by the arrangement of herbs lain in a circle around the table. Strangely, some of them seemed to have been burned, the rosemary singed, verbena flowers withered into little balls of periwinkle, the laurel branches charred beyond recognition. Had there been a fire? There was no smell of ash on the air.

 

Within the circle of herbs, however, the odor of formaldehyde was overpowering.

 

Just the same, Erwin stepped in, watching as she shuddered on the cold table, shoulders trembling, eyes squeezed shut, crinkling the paper-white skin of her brow.

 

Was she in pain?

 

The thought _itself_ was painful, and very softly, Erwin asked, "Marie?"

 

It was the sound of his voice that set her eyes to fluttering open.

 

They were the same warm shade of golden-green that they'd always been, though they were glassy and sunken deep into her skull. They seemed withered, almost, too small for her pallid face. They'd been doe-like once, wide and full of care and curiosity, but there was an emptiness to them now, and Erwin stepped back when they met his.

 

Her hair, once so soft and lustrous, was brittle now, the strands snapping as she turned her head to regard him with those hollow eyes. Even the color had changed, shifting from a warm golden auburn to a flat, dusty brown, the strands mingling with shimmering silver spider webs. Were there still spiders hiding inside her?

 

Her hands were more delicate than ever, spidery and deathly pale, the skin tightening around her knobby knuckles as they clenched and unclenched at her sides. There was grave dirt beneath her manicured fingernails.

 

Her lips, chapped and still troublingly bluish, parted on a shuddering gasp. A soft rumble escaped her throat, and she reached one pale, spindly hand out in his direction. She still seemed stiff, rigor mortis still solidifying her joins.

 

It would be a few days before she was fully alive, his teacher had said. The crawl out of the grave was far more difficult than the leap into it.

 

" _Errr_ …" What remained of her voice was a low mixture of a Rottweiler's growl and a kitten's purr, soft and shaky. Her eyes were wide, her bluish lower lip trembling. " _Errrww_ …"

 

 _Erwin_.

 

She was trying to say his name, to call him to her side, even after so long. _Of course_.

 

Taking her clammy, slender hand in his, Erwin smiled.

 

She was alive.

 

After nearly a month of failed experiments, after two years in the grave, Marie was _alive_.


	2. November Chill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slowly, softly, Erwin asked, "You never felt the same, did you?"

Holding Marie's hand across the cloth-draped dining room table, Erwin shuddered.

 

Her skin was cool and clammy to the touch, still pulled too tightly over delicate bone, still tinted with an unhealthy shade of gray, but there was something utterly _right_ about it just the same.

 

Their love had been forbidden before, but now...

 

With all of the old doors closed, a multitude of new ones had swung wide open. Marie was no longer the lady she had once been. She was no longer bound by her family, or by moral obligation, or by her inexplicable love for another man.

 

She was a woman freed.

 

She seemed to catch onto his thoughts, glancing up with dark, hollow eyes and making a soft keening sound in the back of her throat. The look on her face almost was almost pitying, almost sorrowful. Her thin brows were drawn together, the crepe-like skin of her forehead wrinkling just the slightest bit, her winter-chapped lips pursed.

 

Softly, Erwin asked, "Did you have any idea how much I wanted you?"

 

Catching his eyes with hers, clearly hesitant, she nodded.

 

"Did you..." A sigh. His hand tightened around hers, a bit disturbed at how stiff the flesh still was. It had been two days already; The rigor mortis should have worn off already. Had the ritual been done incorrectly? Erwin ignored that question. There was a far more important question lingering at the tip of his tongue, and he asked it instead: "Did you feel the same?"

 

Cautious, she bit at her still-bluish lower lip, her sunken eyes darting away.

 

His brow furrowing, Erwin leaned forward in an attempt to catch her gaze again, asking, "Marie?"

 

Still she refused to look at him. It was maddening.

 

"Marie, _look at me_."

 

She just shook her head.

 

Slowly, softly, Erwin asked, "You never felt the same, did you?"

 

It almost sounded like an accusation, and Marie flinched in the face of it. For a moment, just a moment, she let her eyes dart up to meet Erwin's. They quickly retreated. That green-gold gaze was cast out the window, watching as snow flurried down upon the city. She had always loved the snow, but there was no joy in her eyes, nor on her face.

 

Though Erwin could not know it, there was no joy even in her heart.

 

When his hand tightened around hers again, almost vice-like, she spared a glance down at it, and Erwin found himself mirroring her with clouded eyes.

 

The contrast between them had always been impressive, but now...

 

He sighed: Maybe they were too different.

 

Her skin was white as paper, paper-thin, too, but Erwin imagined even the shallowest scratch of a quill would rip her open.

 

The slightest prick of a pin would rupture that lovely ice-pale skin, pop her open like a balloon.

 

The dull brass letter-opener he kept upstairs in his office could cut her to ribbons, and release the chemicals and the worms and the rot filling her up.

 

There was something oddly thrilling in that.

 

Just the same, it would have to be dealt with, and quickly.

 

At long last, he pulled away, standing and saying, "Wait here, darling."

 

He had already gone by the time she tucked her hands in her lap, far from his grasp.

 

Stepping through the swinging door just behind the table he shared with her, Erwin came into the many-windowed brightness of the kitchen That light was too much, and for a moment, he paused, his hands resting at the edge of the countertop as a weary sigh slipped past his lips.

 

 _Marie had known_.

 

She had known how he felt, and she hadn't felt the same.

 

That didn't matter now, thought, Erwin suddenly, stubbornly thought. This was his second chance. This time around, he would win her heart. _He would_.

 

So he hoped, at least.

 

He sighed again, heavier this time, breathing deep the comforting scents of tea and cream and hearthsmoke and his only servant's famous beef stew. With her nowhere to be seen, he called out, his voice haggard, "Petra?"

 

"Comin'!"

 

Her light, sprite-like footsteps flittered across the ceiling, springing down the stairs and to the door, her arms filled with a stack of dusty books that, by all means, should have been far too much for her to carry.

 

"Yes?" She peeked around her burden, settling it on the stairs with a wry smile. She was a strange one, Petra, decked out in trousers, her flame-colored hair cut short in most unladylike fashion, her smile far too wide and bright to be modest. The winter-white of her skin showed off her all-consuming freckles, her amber eyes glinting with far more zest than she had any right to. Peculiar as she was, Petra Ral was a treasure. As she spoke, however, her brilliant smile faded. "Everythin' a'right?"

 

"I need to ask a favor of you."

 

"You need to collect yourself first." There was no judgement in her voice, and she reached a calloused hand out to touch his shoulder, giving a comforting squeeze. "Is it over _her_?"

 

That last word came out as a sneer, and though Erwin shot Petra a dirty look over it, he didn't bother with denying it.

 

"She _made you cry_?" Petra sounded nothing short of furious.

 

"She didn't _make me_ ," was Erwin's reply, his tone clipped and sharp. "Now, _I need to ask a favor of you_."

 

Petra didn't look convinced, one thin brow arching above skeptical golden eyes. Still looking quite troubled, she shrugged her shoulders, saying, "G'head."

 

"I need you to look after Marie for a bit."

 

Petra scowled at the mere suggestion.

 

"Come now, Petra." Mollification rarely worked, but it was with a shot. "There's no one else I would trust with her."

 

It was the truth, Petra knew, but she had been the stubborn sort since their childhood, and she steadfastly refused to budge. "Don't wanna," was her most eloquent argument.

 

"You can't pretend you aren't interested in her."

 

Ah, playing on her pride. Rolling her eyes, Petra glared. "Never said I wasn't," was all she had to say, and Erwin's warm smile made his victory obvious. It was nice to see him smiling again. Marie had brought nothing but trouble and sighs, and that dazzling grin was a breath of fresh air. Petra couldn't say "no" to that smile, and he knew it, the brilliant bastard. "But I guess I wasn't really plannin' on goin' anywhere anyway."

 

"Thank you." Absolutely _dazzling_.

 

"Yeah, it's no problem." So stubborn. It was oddly charming. "She's interestin', I s'pose. She's a _triumph of science_ or some such nonsense." Petra's brow furrowed at that, and she caught Erwin's eyes with her own, adding softly, "Or magic..."

 

"There's no such thing as magic, Petra." Erwin was still _relatively_ sure of it, at least.

 

"Says the man with a dead woman sitting at his dining room table."

 

Erwin sighed at that, saying, "Just keep watch over Marie for a while, will you?" When Petra nodded her head in hesitant consent, he continued. "I shouldn't be out terribly long. A few hours, at the very most."

 

Crossing her arms over her chest, Petra leaned onto the doorjamb, looking puzzled and curious and still just the slightest bit concerned. "Where're you goin'?" she asked.

 

"I'm going to look for help."

 

Suddenly that concern was all to be seen on Petra's face, and she asked, "Help with _what_?"

 

Though he was loath to admit it, Erwin softly replied, "Marie is falling apart."

 

"What'd you expect?" Petra rolled her eyes, though there was a sardonic little smile on her lips. "She's _dead_!"

 

Ignoring the jibe, Erwin said, "I'm going to find an undertaker, and see if they can help."

 

Pursing her lips, Petra darted her eyes over his shoulder, gazing intently at the door behind him, which led back into the dining room, where Marie was likely still sitting, unblinking, unmoving, _unbreathing_. "Will they see her?"

 

"I'm not certain," Erwin confessed, "but I need to try, at the very least. She deserves as much. And I can't just leave her the way she is."

 

"True 'nuff." Drumming her fingers against her arm, Petra said, "Who's the one the Constable always uses? The little one from the East End?"

 

It took a moment for Erwin to recall the name. "Ackerman, down in Spitalfields. I believe he's made shop on Cheshire Street." The thought of that particular undertaker sent his skin to crawling, and the sensation was strangely pleasant. "I hear he's highly disreputable."

 

"So've I!" To Petra, however, that seemed almost a good thing. "He's as unscrupulous as they come, I've heard." There was something like mischief in her voice. "He hides and destroys corpses for killers, and he doesn't even require monetary payment for it. Opium'll do, I've heard." She waggled her eyebrows. " _Or flesh_."

 

It was off-putting, to say the least.

 

Petra seemed to pick up on it, and she added a bit hastily, "S'all poppycock, I'm sure."

 

Erwin was not so sure, but what else was there to do? Ackerman was said to be the best in the business when it came to peculiar cases. Who else was there to turn to? Erwin turned to the door behind him, gesturing for Petra to follow him back into the dining room.

 

Marie still sat at the table, twisting her wedding ring around her finger. The gold seemed too bright against the sickly white of her skin.

 

"Marie?"

 

She spared him only the barest of glances.

 

"I'm going to be gone for a while, darling." Her eyes were already on the ring again. He would have to find a way to spirit it away when she wasn't looking. "I'm going to leave you with Petra for a few hours. Is that all right?"

 

She didn't spare Petra so much as nod. Marie had never been particularly fond of Erwin's sole servant, but she gave no argument to his suggestion. Erwin briefly found himself wondering if she was even _capable_ of giving an argument anymore.

 

Tossing a nervous nod over to Petra, who flashed an irritated little grin back at him, Erwin went through the door at the front of the room, in the opposite direction from that whence he had come.

 

Grabbing his coat from the rack in the foyer, he stepped out into the November chill, shivering as he adjusted to the cold and the wind and the gentle fall of snow on the cobblestone streets. It had been murder digging Marie up in such weather, and his hands were still blistered, despite the month that had passed since then. Erwin shuddered, pulling the tweed of his coat tighter around himself. It was too cold to walk.

 

Hailing a Hansom, he called up his directions to the driver, and they were off.

 

Far from Erwin's posh home near the heart of the city, one Ackerman, Undertaker, kept shop in the slums of Spitalfields. The little mortuary was hardly more than a hole in an ugly brick wall, and Erwin hesitantly knocked on the splintered wood of the door.

 

No answer came.

 

Another knock, louder, and Erwin frowned, stuffing his leather-gloved hands deep into the pockets of his coat. How rude. It was far too chilly to keep a guest waiting.

 

He was in the middle of his third succession of knocks when the weathered door swung inward, and a surly young man stepped out of the shop.

 

Tiny, he was, all ivory skin and ebony hair and mercurial eyes. The white apron he wore was spattered with blood. He was lovely. His scowl, however, was strangely intimidating, coming from such a small man. There was something almost miraculous in that, and Erwin clenched his hands inside his pockets. He couldn't have them acting of their own volition.

 

His display of decency seemed to annoy the shopkeeper, who narrowed his eyes and gritted out a sharp, expectant, " _Well_?"

 

Awkwardly, Erwin cleared his throat. "Are you the owner of this establishment?" he asked, composing his voice as best he could and gesturing at the unattractive brick façade of the building.

 

"Obviously." That glare could cut diamonds, and Erwin found himself shivering in its wake. Leaning against the doorjamb, the undertaker crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze trailing rather crudely along the other man's body. It felt like an appraisal, and Erwin shivered again, a twinge of heat sparking up. "What do you want?"

 

Steeling himself, Erwin half-lied, "I need help with a corpse."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so enters Levi :) Petra, too, enters upon this chapter, though I initially had no intention of involving her in this fic. I'll get into her backstory a bit later, but all you really need to know for now is that she is Erwin's only servant and a Cockney of Irish descent. She's also a suffragette, but such things will not be discussed until later chapters
> 
> Expect a great deal more of Levi in the next chapter, too, though I'm still working on the overall plot, so there might be a bit of a wait before its release
> 
> I'm really looking forward to exploring Erwin's dark side with this fic! I tend to write him as a lovely Prince Charming type, but not this time! I AM STOKED :)
> 
> Oh, oh, and to anyone in the know, please do let me know if you find any errors, yeah? I'd like to make this fic as accurate as possible!


	3. Ackerman, Undertaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Speak." It was nothing short of a command.
> 
> Clearing his throat, Erwin reluctantly admitted, "I'm not certain where to begin."
> 
> Clicking his tongue, Levi simply replied, "You do understand that I don't have time to waste, don't you?"

"I've a full mortuary to deal with, I'll have you know." The little undertaker clicked his tongue, leaning against the doorjamb as he spoke, arms crossed over his chest, uncaring of the blood it spread across his already-bloodied gloves. "What's so special about this corpse of yours that I oughta abandon my other customers?"

 

For a long moment, Erwin was silent. Then, softly, tentatively, he said, "She's a beautiful woman...?"

 

"Beautiful women aren't exactly my forte."

 

When the door slammed shut, Erwin stopped it with an oxford-clad foot and a single word: " _Please_."

 

That gave Ackerman pause, at least, and he opened the door again, just a crack, to ask, "Why do you sound so desperate?"

 

"Because this is very important."

 

" _Vague_." The little undertaker sounded annoyed, slipping his soiled gloves off and sliding them into the pocket at the front of his apron. Even so, he opened the door the rest of the way, resting his hip against the rotting wood of the jamb. "This your first, I take it?"

 

Erwin's brow furrowed when he repeated, " _My first_?"

 

The undertaker's cold, silvery eyes rolled, and he clarified, "Your first kill."

 

" _Kill_?"

 

"What are you, a parrot?" Strangely enough, there was a slight tone of amusement in his voice. "Your first kill. As jumpy as you are, I kinda doubt it..."

 

Wide-eyed and angry, Erwin denied the accusation with a harsh bark of, "I've never killed anyone!"

 

The undertaker didn't look convinced.

 

Nor did the late afternoon crowds headed for the market, and Erwin shrunk into himself.

 

"Denial," the undertaker said. There was still a slight hint of enjoyment in his tone. "You're all shifty-eyed, too." His own eyes shifted from liquid-mercury to hardened steel in an instant, suspicious. "You really have done this before, haven't you? More than once, I'd say."

 

"I already told you," Erwin said, his voice soft and carefully measured, "I've never--"

 

"And you're defensive." Somehow, that seemed to catch Ackerman's interest. "Have you any idea how suspicious that is?"

 

"You've got it all wrong." It almost came out as a growl, and Erwin's hands fisted tight at his sides, the fine leather of his gloves squeaking under the pressure. "It's against the law--"

 

"You go to the law before you go to morality? That's surprising."

 

Not at all. Morality had too little purpose and too much ambiguity for someone like Erwin. The law, however, was concrete. Concrete smashed ambiguity apart with no effort whatsoever. "Even so, to commit a crime like--"

 

"Sometimes the things that are illegal," the little undertaker said, looking strangely smug, "are the things that're the most fun." The accusation was gone from his eyes, replaced with something equally dark. Something hungry, almost, _lustful_.

 

Erwin did his best to ignore it.

 

Sighing in resignation, he ran one hand through his hair and asked, "May I please just come in?" It was incredibly difficult to keep the exasperation from his voice, and nearly impossible to ignore the hunger in those dark, dark eyes. He was certain there was coloring rising in his cheeks, and from far more than just the cold. He pressed on just the same. "It's a rather long story, and I'm not entirely comfortable telling it in public."

 

"Why's that?"

 

Erwin only gave him a lifted brow in return.

 

Eyes roving for a moment longer, Ackerman finally stepped aside, chirping out an expectant, "C'mon then."

 

Just the slightest bit relieved, Erwin stepped into the mortuary.

 

It was cool inside, though that didn't really come as a surprise. Warmth and corpses didn't really work well together, Erwin supposed. He just hoped that Marie would be in better condition come the spring thaw. It simply wouldn't do to have her falling apart just when nature was renewing itself.

 

"This way."

 

Erwin was pulled from his thoughts by the undertaker's voice, sharp and pleasantly bone chilling, and he shivered in its wake. Silent and a bit unnerved, he followed the other man into the entryway of the mortuary, removing his coat and gloves while Ackerman pulled off his apron, draping it over one of the many hooks set into the wall.

 

In the belly of the building, small though it was, was a coffin on a high pedestal near the back of the room, the lid left open to reveal a freckled young man, but only a single mourner, another young man, was present to see him off into the next life. It was a sad sight.

 

The undertaker paid them no mind. He was probably used to seeing such things.

 

Off to the right of the solemn little space was a closed door, upon which hung a sign reading " _staff only_." This, Erwin thought, was the door leading into the embalming room. There was another door beside it, though this one was unlabeled. To Erwin's horror, the undertaker pulled the marked one open, and Erwin stepped as far from the formaldehyde odor as he could.

 

"Oi, Kenny!" Ackerman shouted down the stairs.

 

A few seconds later, a gruff, muffled voice called back, "What?"

 

"I've got a client in the private room. Bring us up some tea, yeah?"

 

"Get it yourself," came the harsh reply, and a tall, willowy stepped up the stairs, glaring hard. His eyes were an exact match to the other undertaker's. The relation was obvious. He held up his hands, showing off his bloody-gloved fingers and announcing, "I'm busy. Gotta finish Shadis before five, and I've not even got the chance to start on Bossard or the Springer baby, and they're both due for display tomorrow morning!"

 

"A'right, a'right." The younger Ackerman's eyes rolled. "Where's Mikasa?"

 

"Here."

 

Erwin jumped when a young woman stepped from behind him, silent as a shadow. Another Ackerman, it seemed. Was this a family business? Erwin briefly found himself wondering if the Ackerman he had been speaking to was the one he meant to speak to.

 

"Why aren't you downstairs helping Kenny?"

 

No answer came from the girl but a blank stare.

 

The undertaker pursed his lips in irritation. "The man you just scared half to death is a prospective client," he said to her. "Make us some tea. We'll be in the private room. And when you're done, go help Kenny. There's too much work to be done for you to just be milling about, yeah?"

 

A nod, and she was on her way, taking the unmarked door onto another stairwell.

 

"My sister, Mikasa," the undertaker said to Erwin. He nodded at the man down the other set of stairs, adding, "And my charming uncle, Kenny."

 

A nod was all Kenny gave, too, before he stalked back down to the basement mortuary.

 

"A pleasure," Erwin said to no one.

 

"It's over here."

 

On the opposite side of the room, past the rows of faux-pews that currently stood empty, was yet another door, leading into a small private mourning room, and Erwin dutifully followed as the undertaker headed over to it.

 

When the door was pushed open, Erwin finally found the gumption to ask, "You _are_ the undertaker, are you not?"

 

"We all are, yeah. Mikasa and Kenny and me."

 

"But you're the owner, yes?"

 

"Yeah." Holding out a calloused hand, he introduced himself: "Levi Ackerman." Levi? Biblical. It was incredibly unfitting, and there was something surprisingly _right_ about it. "And you are…?"

 

"Erwin Smith."

 

A handshake, calloused skin on black leather, and they stepped into the private mourning room.

 

It was small and surprisingly cozy, occupied by a set of threadbare, mismatched sofas lining the walls which were not cut open by the entry door. That wall was flanked by a duo of overstuffed armchairs and a single rickety end table.

 

"Take a seat," Levi said as he closed the door behind them, and Erwin did as he was told, claiming one of the armchairs and watching quietly as the other man made himself comfortable.

 

Unperturbed by Erwin's unfaltering stare, Levi crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the arm of the closest sofa and all but demanding of his guest, " _Speak_."

 

Clearing his throat, Erwin reluctantly admitted, "I'm not certain where to begin."

 

Clicking his tongue, Levi simply replied, "You _do_ understand that I don't have time to waste, don't you?"

 

Though his mouth twisted in distaste, Erwin apologized. Then, slowly, he said, "There's a woman at my home that I think you should see."

 

"Didn't I already tell you that women aren't--"

 

"Your forte, I know." Erwin did his best to keep his eyes from rolling. "This one is special."

 

"How special could she be?" The acid in that razor voice was obvious. " _She's dead_."

 

"Not exactly."

 

One of Levi's thin brows lifted at that. " _Not exactly_?" When Erwin nodded, his scowl deepened, carving deep lines into ivory skin. "Is she or isn't she?"

 

"It's complicated."

 

The undertaker looked both concerned and curious, uncrossing his arms and leaning back, one elbow supporting his weight against the back of the sofa. "If you want me to help you out," he said, deceptively casual, "you're gonna explain _exactly_ what she is."

 

Glancing up through golden lashes, Erwin asked, "Do you believe in magic?"

 

Those wrought-iron eyes rolled at the mere suggestion. " _Magic_ , he says." He spoke the word as if it were an ancient killing curse, with such malice that Erwin could do nothing to stop a responding shudder.

 

"Safe to take that as a no, then?"

 

"No. I--" He cut himself off when his sister entered. "Leave it and get out," he said to her. "Kenny needs help downstairs."

 

Though her eyes, an exact match for his, narrowed, she did as she was told just the same, setting the tea tray she carried on the side table between the two men and quickly seeing herself out.

 

"Is she all right?" Erwin asked, surprising himself a bit.

 

"Fine." The undertaker's voice was tense, though that was nothing new. "Cream or sugar?"

 

"None, thank you." Pondering, Erwin watched as Levi poured the tea from a dull kettle, offering the farther teacup to his guest. Given the chill of the room, Erwin took it up instantly. "She doesn't seem..." He took a sip of tea, considering his words. "She doesn't seem _all there_ , if you get my meaning."

 

"She isn't." Sighing, Levi produced a small envelope from the pocket of his trousers, pouring a bit of its bitter, powdery contents into the remaining teacup. "Magic is to blame for it. If she had just left well enough alone…"

 

"So you _do_ believe?"

 

"With a life like mine," he replied, adding what seemed to be a ridiculous amount of sugar to his tea, "you don't really have a choice." He glanced up then, adding, "But _you_ don't, do you?"

 

Oddly, there was shame in Erwin's voice when he answered, "No, I don't."

 

Twisting his mouth in disgust, the little undertaker simply said, "Drink your tea."

 

" _Pushy_." It was rather charming, actually, and Erwin did as he was told. As delicious and utterly warming as the tea was, he had never been the sort to be easily distracted. Glancing up to snag silver eyes with blue, he asked, "You think I'm mad, don't you?"

 

"As a hatter, yeah. Don't think I'd mind hearing you out on this nonsense, though. Could be interesting." Levi's eyes, dark and cold, roved, seeming to snag at the exposed hollow between Erwin's collarbones. "You're rather nice to look at, too, I'll have you know. Wouldn't really mind you larking about for a bit."

 

Spluttering into his tea, Erwin gasped, "Excuse me?"

 

"I said--"

 

"I heard you."

 

That little smirk was absolutely wicked, and Erwin felt his face heat up in response. "Making you uncomfortable, am I?"

 

"A bit."

 

"You're blushing."

 

Erwin didn't bother to deny it.

 

"So tell me about this lady of yours," the undertaker said, the smile sticking steadfastly to his lips. "You said magic was involved...?"

 

That flush was a stubborn thing, though it was more from shame than embarrassment now, and Erwin confessed, "I may have brought the woman I loved back from the dead."

 

The undertaker didn't seem particularly shocked. "How long was she gone?" was his only response.

 

"A little over two-and-a-half years." Two years, seven months, three weeks and four days, to be exact. Such detail was superfluous, Erwin supposed.

 

"And she's still human?"

 

Though Erwin was hesitant, he eventually conceded, "More or less."

 

"Sounds interesting, I'll admit." Taking a sip of tea, Levi said, "But it still doesn't change the fact that I've other clients to worry about. Even with Kenny and Mikasa helping…"

 

Squaring his shoulders, Erwin replied, "I'll make it worth your while."

 

His face reddened again, though, when the little undertaker gave him that hooded silver stare and a soft, "I'm sure you will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written on the back of a series of receipts while I worked this morning. Did you know that I can fit approximately one hundred words onto the back of a standard-sized McDonald's receipt? :)
> 
> Also, I'm sure you've realized who was inside the coffin in the mortuary, haven't you? I'm a horrible person, I know.
> 
> And the powder Levi put into his tea will also be explained, though not for a few chapters. It's rather important. Theories are more than welcome!


	4. The Cottage on Brompton Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Among the elegant shades of silver and blue and gold decorating Erwin's home, a splash of deathly white stained a lush velveteen sofa in the main room.
> 
> There was Marie.
> 
> And there was nothing Levi could do to stop the gasp tearing from his throat at the sight of her.

"This is the one."

 

There was a sort of nervousness in Erwin's voice that sent a rather unpleasant shiver racing its way down Levi's spine, though it warmed in time with the older man's anxious little grin. When the door was held open for him, Levi stepped out of the Hansom and into the November air, blaming the flush rapidly rising over his face on the cold. He doubted anyone would believe it. _He_ didn't believe it. He never believed his own lies, and so he simply put the thought out of his head, focusing instead on his surroundings.

 

The house they stood before was small, though not at all lacking in charm and wealth, the yard clearly well-kept despite the layer of snow coating the grass. It was lovely, and Levi found it very hard to believe that there was an undead woman hidden behind that rich-looking brick façade.

 

"It is rather fine," he admitted.

 

His voice seemed to be a summons, and the thickly lacquered front door of the house swung open, a pretty redheaded young lady stepping aside to hold it open. Well, she was a young _woman_ , at least. _Ladies_ didn't wear trousers. Her apparel was oddly charming, actually. "Welcome home, Erwin," she said, and Levi met her curious golden gaze head-on when it fell to him. "And our guest is...?"

 

"This is Levi Ackerman." Stepping into the house, Erwin gestured for his guest to follow him into the foyer while Petra closed the door behind them. "He's the undertaker we spoke of earlier."

 

Swallowing nervously, Petra nodded.

 

"How was Marie?"

 

The maid seemed hesitant to answer that, simply saying, "Silent as the grave." Her eyes darted to Levi again, then down the hall, to where Marie was waiting, then back again. "I'll put the kettle on," she said before she vanished down the hall and into the kitchen.

 

"Awful pretty for a dead woman," Levi said as he pulled off his overcoat, hanging it on the hook beside where Erwin's had been left.

 

"No, no, you're mistaken." Oddly enough, Erwin seemed amused, peeling off his gloves and depositing them into his coat's pockets. "That was Petra, my servant."

 

" _Servant_?" There was something like disbelief in Levi's voice. "You got a fancy house like this, but you can only afford _one_ servant?"

 

"I can afford as many as I like," Erwin said, though it didn't sound like a boast. Strange. "I just don't like the idea of having strangers wandering in and out of my home at all hours. Petra is the only person I trust, especially with Marie around."

 

"Petra is the only one you trust," Levi said, looking both irritated and amused, "but bringing some random undertaker into your home is perfectly acceptable?"

 

"You weren't a random choice, believe me." Levi shivered in the wake of a strong hand at the small of his back, leading him down the entry hall. "You're known for taking, shall we say, _strange cases_ , and Marie is a very strange case indeed."

 

It was sound enough logic, Levi thought. "And where is this Marie of yours?"

 

"She should be in here." The entry hall cut into the swinging kitchen doors at the right, opening at the left to the living and dining rooms, all done up in elegant shades of silver and blue and gold, separated by a lovely Asian-styled screen decorated with clouds and dancing phoenixes.

 

Among the many colors, a splash of deathly white stained a lush velveteen sofa near the divide of the two rooms.

 

There was Marie.

 

And there was nothing Levi could do to stop the gasp tearing from his throat at the sight of her.

 

"This is Marie," Erwin said, smiling nervously, that anxiety doubling when Levi gave no response but a widening of his eyes. "Marie, this is Levi. He's here to help you."

 

Taking to the chair opposite the sofa where Marie was currently lying in repose, beside the warmth of the fireplace, Levi sighed, running one hand over his face, hiding his mouth with the cottony cuff of his shirt. He did his best to ignore the coppery scent clinging to the fabric.

 

This was _madness_.

 

For someone in his line of work, death was simply a daily annoyance, not a great bringer of fear, but there was fear in him now. The creature lying on the sofa just out of his reach was no woman, he was sure of it. _A corpse_ , his mind shouted at him, though she was clearly moving, twisting a golden band around her ring finger as she reclined. She was _a living corpse_ , just as Erwin had said.

 

"Levi?"

 

It wasn't Erwin's voice, though, that brought him out of his daze.

 

It was a sudden, warm, heavy pressure on his lap that brought Levi back to consciousness, and when he glanced down, he found a cat settled had there, the sound of Erwin's responding chuckle echoing in his ears. A lovely cat it was, too, large and silver-blue, its cataract-dulled golden eyes set deep into its flat, wide face. "Fat old man," was his greeting to the little beast.

 

"His name is Socrates," Erwin told him, crossing the room to scratch between the cat's ears. The movement brought them a bit too close, and Levi was immensely pleased by it, breathing deep the scent of aftershave and expensive cologne clinging to Erwin's skin. "He belonged to my father when he was at University."

 

"He's that old?"

 

For a moment, Erwin was silent, thinking back. "He's seventeen, I believe." His smile was dazzling. "Ancient by cat standards."

 

"Wise old man," Levi agreed. Resting his hand along the warm expanse of Socrates's back, he finally glanced over at Marie again, asking, "What is she, exactly?"

 

"A living corpse."

 

Rolling his eyes, Levi swallowed his irritation, asking, "Is this really magic? Or some mix of magic and science?"

 

Though he was clearly hesitant to admit it, Erwin said, "I'm not exactly sure." He ran his hand up along Socrates's back, the very tips of his fingers brushing Levi's, pleased when the other didn't pull away. "It's complicated."

 

To cease the distraction the cat was causing, Levi carefully lowered Socrates to the ground, noting that he refused to go anywhere near the _living corpse_ occupying the sofa, scurrying out of the room in an apparent hurry. Turning his eyes to Erwin, he asked, "How did you do it?"

 

"An old tutor of mine learned the method in Haiti many years ago." He glanced over at the end table beside the chair, at an old Daguerreotype photo that sat proudly in its tarnished silver frame.

 

There was a young boy in the photograph, flanked by two older men, one middle-aged and strikingly handsome, the other a decade or so older, bald, with a warm, proud face. He had to be talking about the bald man, Levi thought to himself. The handsome one was clearly his father. The resemblance between he and his son was uncanny.

 

"He picked it up in Port-au-Prince, I believe," Erwin continued, soft and melancholic, "shortly after his wife died in childbirth."

 

"And he tried to bring her back?" Levi got the feeling he already knew the answer, and it left him feeling rather sick.

 

Shaking his head, Erwin said, "He tried to bring the baby first--"

 

Levi hadn't known _at all_.

 

"--though she only survived for the night. It just made it harder on him, losing the baby for a second time."

 

Rather sick indeed. Levi did his best not to picture a newborn in the condition that Marie was in, lest the _sickness_ of it all overwhelm him. Dead, he could handle. Dead, he was used to, even when it came to infants. Hell, Kenny was probably working on the Springer baby at that exact moment. _Undead_ , however, was an entirely other state. "And the wife?" Levi asked next, unable to hide the strain in his voice.

 

Wetting his lips, Erwin said, "She vanished. I've no idea what became of her, though I do know that she managed to make it back into this world."

 

Levi gave a numb nod. "So it was definitely magic, then."

 

"There's no such thing as magic."

 

All Levi gave him in reply was a lift of his eyebrows.

 

"It's madness, I know," was all Erwin could say for himself.

 

The pause that followed next was a long one, and Levi let his eyes drift from Erwin to his lover, and he shuddered when she caught his gaze with hers.

 

Those eyes were a strangely golden shade a green, somewhere in the spectrum of hazel, but they were frigid. There was no passion there, no warmth, no care, but there was, undeniably, _life_. This creature, this woman, truly was _alive_.

 

"If there's no such thing as magic," Levi eventually brought himself to ask, "why would you even...?" He trailed off, shaking his head in a mixture of disgust and astonishment.

 

Erwin waited for Marie's gaze, suddenly curious and questioning, to fall on him before he answered: "Because I loved her."

 

There was pity in those half-dead eyes, and Levi looked away.

 

He truly did love her; That much was obvious.

 

It was, however, equally obvious that she bore no such feelings for him.

 

Levi glanced up, a bit disheartened to see the love-struck smile on Erwin's face. It was tragic, really. He was a good man, Levi was sure of it. To go so far to bring the woman he loved back from the dead, even when she didn't return his affections...

 

Only an exceedingly _good_ man would go to such lengths for love.

 

To find a good man in the heart of such a wretched city…

 

Levi was immensely grateful to hear Petra bustling back into the room, toting a tea tray with her, placing it down at the table in the center of the half-room. Glancing up to catch his eyes, she asked, "Any milk or sugar, Mr. Ackerman?"

 

"Twelve cubes, no milk."

 

Though she looked taken aback for a moment, she soon nodded, and in seconds, she carefully passed Levi's tea to him, meeting his eyes for a moment before returning to the table.

 

Her eyes were still on him when he added a bit of bitter powder to it. That stare was irritating, really, and he held her gaze firmly when he asked, "Got a problem?"

 

"That amount of sugar and this particular tea…" It was perfectly plain that didn't care about the sugar.

 

"In most cases," Levi said, "I'd agree." He added more powder to his tea, just a pinch more, and Petra wrinkled her nose. "You've seen this sorta thing before, I'd wager." He held up the paper envelope the powder was kept in. "Dens're pretty common in the East End, and with that accent…"

 

She rose to the challenge in his voice easily, saying, "I'd really rather you didn't use opium in my house."

 

" _Your_ house?" The sardonic little smile on Levi's face was undeniable. "Erwin, do you--"

 

But Erwin's gaze was elsewhere, and he said, soothing as could be, "It's all right, Petra."

 

Petra only scoffed at him, pushing a teacup at him with more force than was strictly necessary. It was a miracle that it didn't spill.

 

Reaching out to touch her forearm before she pulled away, Erwin met her eyes, sky blue on sunshine amber, saying, "He won't take enough to cause trouble, I promise."

 

"How would you even--"

 

" _Just trust me_."

 

Though she hardly seemed convinced, Petra turned away, back to the table, asking, her voice cold, "Milk or sugar, Marie?"

 

The only answer was a shake of Marie's head.

 

Looking a bit affronted, though neither Erwin nor Levi could see it, Petra asked, "Do you even _want_ any tea?"

 

Another shake of Marie's head was all the answer she received.

 

Huffing a bit, Petra stepped out, taking the tea tray with her, and Erwin sighed.

 

"She's been in a rather foul mood lately," he said to no one in particular. It was the truth. Marie's presence seemed to be bringing out the worst in his fiery little maid. He put the thought out of his mind for the time being. Glancing over at Levi, he asked instead, "The powder in your tea. Is it really opium?"

 

"Yeah." His cup was already half-empty. "They call it poppy tea."

 

"Are you an addict?"

 

Though his mouth twisted in distaste at the use of that particular word, Levi reluctantly admitted, "S'pose I am."

 

His brow furrowing, Erwin asked, "Why would you do such a thing in the first place?"

 

"It hurts too much not to."

 

Though Erwin looked immensely concerned, he said nothing.

 

"Maybe I'll tell you one day." It sounded like a lie, and Levi quickly downed the rest of his tea, setting the cup aside on the table before him. Standing and cracking his knuckles, he stepped closer to Marie, asking Erwin, "So, tell me, why would _you_ do a thing _like this_ in the first place?"

 

"I already told you, I--"

 

"You loved her, yeah." There was disgust in Levi's voice. "Boring answer. No such thing as love. There's no room for that kinda rot in a world like this."

 

"You really believe that?" Erwin looked incredibly troubled, and it was far more charming than it had any right to be.

 

"'Course I do." That, while it sounded like an absolute truth, was an absolute lie. Levi was grateful Erwin couldn't see his face. "I can't really work on her here." Glancing over his shoulder, he asked, "Any way we can get her back to the mortuary?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the powder in Levi's tea is explained. We'll get into his reason for taking it in a later chapter.
> 
> Also, Erwin owns a cat called Socrates. It was not stated outright, but he happens to be a blue Persian, as they were a favorite of Queen Victoria, and thus very popular around the time this fic takes place :) He'll be rather important in the future, so don't forget him! His name is Socrates because I imagine Papa Smith was as much of a dork as his son, and while it most likely won't come into play, he was a history professor at Cambridge when he was alive, and good friends with Pixis, who was Erwin's mentor, and will play heavily into the story later.
> 
> Oh, and Brompton Road! To justify the title, and the position of Erwin's home, let me simply say: Brompton Cemetery. That's explanation enough, wouldn't you say? ;)
> 
> Excited for more? Have constructive criticism or even just silly comments to add? Let me know! And as always, I must mention that I go by SandCastleVirtues on Tumblr, and I'm totally open to taking questions and comments there! :)


	5. Through The Snowy Streets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Darling?" The arm Erwin had wrapped about Marie's shoulders tightened, his free hand stroking along the paper-thin softness of her cheek. He could feel the gnawing cold of her even through the leather of his gloves. "You're as cold as death..."

Draped in Erwin's housecoat, pressed tight to his side in the snowy street, Marie shuddered.

 

"Darling?" The arm Erwin had wrapped about her shoulders tightened, and he pressed his cheek to her brittle hair, warm and gentle. "Are you all right?"

 

"Of course she's not all right." Levi's voice was the sound of shattering ice, and beneath the frigid weight of it, Erwin set to shivering, too, though it had nothing to do with the cold. " _She's dead_."

 

Though Erwin shot a dirty look at the smaller man for that, he did nothing to contest it. Instead, he turned his attention back to Marie, stroking his free hand along the paper-thin softness of her cheek. He could feel the gnawing cold of her even through the leather of his gloves. "You're as cold as death..."

 

In response, Marie merely shuddered again, pulling his housecoat tighter around herself, though the spring gown she wore beneath it was hardly suitable for such weather, the material threadbare and worm-eaten. Even her slippers were worn, giving little protection against the cold and the wet beneath her feet. She offered no resistance when Erwin lifted the collar of his robe up to act as a hood, carefully tucking it about her neck to keep her ears warm. Though she said nothing, knowing full-well that it pointless, she appreciated the effort just the same.

 

Keeping his arms tight around Marie's frail, trembling shoulders, Erwin shot his gaze toward Levi asking, "Could you summon us a carriage, please? It's far too cold for her out here."

 

"Colder than the grave?"

 

"She wasn't awake to feel it in the grave," was Erwin's defense, and Levi let it slide, stepping onto the curb to hail a passing carriage, clearly reluctant to pull his bare hands from the warmth of his pockets.

 

The first driver chose to simply pass him and his raised hands by, and Levi rolled silver eyes to the sky, an irritated groan dying in his throat. Something in his glare made it obvious that this wasn't a one-time event. Who would stop to pick up an undertaker?

 

The next carriage trotted by even faster, and Levi could do nothing to avoid a slurry of mud and melted snow splashing against the worn leather of his boots, and his nose wrinkled in disgust. It took all Erwin had to restrain a soft huff of laughter at that expression. Marie was unamused.

 

It wasn't until Levi's third attempt that he finally got a response from the cabbies, though it was from a smaller Hansom-style carriage. It would be a tight fit, but they would manage. Erwin was just glad that Levi wasn't about to get splashed again. He looked almost murderous, his eyes blazing and razor-sharp, and it was a surprisingly good look on him.

 

The relief Erwin felt when their driver pulled to the side of the road was immensely short-lived.

 

"Afternoon, Smith." Mike Zacharias smiled down at them, though it, too, was short-lived, fading when he caught sight of Marie, his gaze flickering only briefly to Levi. "Who're your friends?"

 

Nodding to the undertaker, Erwin simply said, "This is Levi."

 

Behind the tawny curtain of his hair, Mike's brow furrowed. "And the other one?"

 

"A leper." Levi had been the one to speak, ignoring the incredulous look Erwin aimed at him for it. "Bobbies caught him pissing in public, and this is his punishment." He flashed the ghost of a grin at the carriage driver. "Transporting a leper over to Spitalfields. One last day of shopping before she kicks the bucket."

 

"He would never--"

 

"You gonna give us a ride or not?" There was something almost smug in Levi's voice, and Mike sputtered in the face of it. He pulled a ludicrously large roll of bills from the pocket of his overcoat, giving it a tempting little wave and saying, "You want a piece of this, don'cha?"

 

Though he still looked troubled, Mike nodded, watching in quiet trepidation as Erwin, Levi and their guest piled into the Hansom. His horse, a pretty chestnut Friesian called Edwina, looked equally nervous, pawing at the ground impatiently. "Where to?" Mike asked once they were all settled in.

 

"The Old Spitalfields Market, if you please," Erwin replied.

 

A nod, the snap of reins, and they were off.

 

It was warmer inside the carriage, though Marie's shivering persisted, and Erwin pulled her tight to his side once more. Though she did nothing to pull away, she tensed, careful not to lean into the comforting warmth of the embrace.

 

At her other side, pressed to the opposite door, as far from her as he could get, Levi said, "You know the driver, eh?"

 

"He's an old friend of mine."

 

"Hers, too?"

 

Marie responded for herself with a shake of her head, though only the movement itself was visible beneath the brocaded blue velvet of Erwin's housecoat.

 

"Seems odd that you're friends with a man like him, though."

 

"How so?"

 

"Well, you're a noble or something, aren'cha?" Levi asked, eyes openly roving, though it was partially hidden by the darkness of the cab. "Fancy house, well-dressed, clearly intelligent. You're not _common_ , at the very least."

 

"I've no titles," Erwin said, looking rather befuddled, "if that's what you mean."

 

"Surprising."

 

"Is it?"

 

"Very." Leaning around Marie, Levi met Erwin's eyes, silver on blue. "You're at least _well-off_ , I take it?"

 

"Not particularly," Erwin replied with a shrug. "My father just taught me how to properly manage my money, is all."

 

"What do you do to make that money?" Levi asked next. "Or do you just live off an inheritance?"

 

"I give lectures, for the most part. On history, philosophy, the Greeks and the Romans..." Though there was something wistful on Erwin's face, it fell away when he turned it on Levi, saying, "All things you would find terribly boring, I'm sure."

 

"Your father had similar interests?"

 

"Yes."

 

A nod, a bemused smile, and Levi said, "And that's why the cat's name is Socrates."

 

For an instant, Erwin looked utterly bewildered. Then, slowly, a smile bloomed over his face, warm even in the dim chill of the carriage. "Yes, _exactly_."

 

The rest of the ride passed in an oddly comfortable silence, the wheels of the carriage clattering noisily against the cobblestone street, splashing through slush. None of the Hansom's occupants spoke a word, though Erwin and Levi's breathing came harshly against the cold, misting out before them. Marie didn't draw so much as a single breath, the air around her quickly growing stale.

 

The next voice to ring out was Mike's, announcing, "Old Spitalfields Market." When the door opened, however, he called down, "You sure you wouldn't like me to take you to the mortuary?"

 

Clearly surprised, Erwin leaned out the opposite window, asking, "What makes you think we ought to be at the mortuary?"

 

"Given you're with the undertaker..."

 

"How would...?" Erwin sighed, glancing to Levi, then to Marie, then up at Mike once more. At Levi's nod, he assented, "If you wouldn't mind, the mortuary would be preferable."

 

"Thought so." Levi's door clicked shut again, and Erwin's window slid back into place. As Mike sighed to himself, the reins snapped again, and his lovely Friesian horse took to the streets again, her shoed hooves clashing loudly as she carried them off.

 

"Have you two met?" Erwin asked once the silence had settled around them once more.

 

"I've just seen him around, is all."

 

It sounded like a cop-out, though Erwin didn't doubt that it was true. Mike kept his routes mostly to the East End, close to his Shadwell home, and of course he would have seen the little undertaker roaming the streets. It made sense.

 

Of course, very little about Levi _made sense_. He was vulgar and crude, but there was a sort of streetwise, diamond-bright brilliance to him. He dressed like a pauper, but he moved with a grace unfitting of a man of his social status.

 

He may have looked and sounded and acted the part, but he was no commonplace street rat, Erwin was sure of it.

 

His thoughts were interrupted when Mike called down, "Ackerman, Undertaker."

 

As they climbed out of the carriage, Erwin returned his arm to its proper place around Marie's shoulders, and Levi footed the bill, giving over more than was needed, along with a harsh rasp of, "No one at all need know."

 

Even as they entered the mortuary, though, Mike remained parked outside, watching, breathing deep the scent of familiar lavender perfume that seemed to cling to the hooded figure.

 

It was Marie's favorite perfume.

 

Inside, the mortuary was empty, save a drab little coffin at the front pedestal, over which Kenny was leaning, an artist's pallet in his hands. Mikasa stood at his side, still and silent as ever, holding a tray laden with tubes of varying paints and brushes and chemicals. Upon the guests' entry, both glanced up with silver hawk-eyes, and Kenny asked, "Who's that?"

 

"Take it the Shadis wake went over all right?" Levi shot back.

 

Kenny didn't take the bait, asking again, his voice sharper, colder, "Levi, _who is that_?"

 

"A client," Levi replied, slipping his overcoat from his shoulders and hanging it on one of the hooks lining the wall. He was quick to retrieve his apron, cinching it tightly about his waist as Erwin removed his own coat. Neither man made a move to take Marie's oversized housecoat from her still-quivering shoulders.

 

"Clients're usually dead," Kenny said, one brow lifting. "I thought blondie had someone for you to work on…?"

 

"This one's halfway there," was all the defense Levi had to give.

 

" _Halfway there_?" Kenny's platinum eyes narrowed, and he hissed, "Kid, I dunno what you're getting yourself into, but--"

 

" _I'm not a kid_." Had the situation been any less dire, Erwin would have been amused: Levi sounded like a petulant child. "I know what I'm doing. Just finish working on the baby, a'right? You got too much work to do to waste time interrogating me."

 

Though he was clearly less than pleased, Kenny just shook his head, muttering as he went about his work applying makeup to the corpse occupying the casket pedestal.

 

Erwin did his best to keep his eyes off the tiny, sickly child inside, grateful when Levi distracted him, taking hold of his shirtsleeve and saying, "It's over this way."

 

Marie, however, was harder to distract, letting her hood fall as she approached, sadness apparent in her eyes as she gazed down into the casket, into the little peaceful face. Erwin followed, though the hand he placed upon her shoulder was instantly shrugged away. Kenny and Mikasa both kept to their silence, watching as Marie reached out to brush cool fingertips over the child's equally cool cheek.

 

While Mikasa was as blank as ever, there was a strange, morbid fascination to Kenny's expression. He'd been stunned speechless, and somehow, that seemed incredibly, impossibly _wrong_.

 

When Marie's finger's brushed against lips as blue as her own, Erwin stepped closer. "This isn't one of your children." He kept his voice soft, still doing his best not to look at the coffin's occupant. "This is..." His gaze drifted over to Kenny.

 

After a long pause, the oldest undertaker replied, "Springer." His voice a low rasp. "Julian Springer."

 

"He isn't one of yours, Marie," Erwin said again, and this time, the hand he rested upon her shoulder was allowed to remain.

 

Marie seemed far less than comforted, however, if the sudden wet gasp she gave was any indication.

 

"Darling?" Carefully, Erwin slid his free hand along the cool smoothness of Marie's cheek, turning her head to meet her eyes. They were damp and dark, silvery spider webs still clinging to dark lashes. "Are you crying?"

 

"She can't cry," Levi said, though there was something almost like compassion in his voice. "She's all dried up."

 

"Come away, darling." Gently, Erwin steered Marie over to the door where Levi was waiting. He gave a heavy, pained sigh when she hid her face against his neck, another whimper struggling past her chapped lips. "I wish she hadn't seen that." It sounded like an accusation.

 

"Couldn't be helped."

 

It was the truth, Erwin supposed, and as they crossed the room, he added, "I'm certain to be having nightmares tonight, aren't I?"

 

Still seated next to the coffin, Kenny muttered, "Don't we all?"

 

"It happens," Levi agreed when Erwin and Marie finally reached his side, though both were markedly hesitant about the descent. "And don't worry: All the stiffs down here are outta sight, I promise."

 

Down the stairs of the _staff only_ door they went, down into the formaldehyde darkness of the embalming room, and Erwin pulled Marie closer when Levi stepped away to strike a match and light the multitude of gas lamps lining the walls.

 

Erwin gave a soft gasp as the lights came up, saying simply, "This is not what I expected."

 

At his side, Marie nodded her agreement, hazy golden-green eyes gazing all around the dark little room even as she attempted to wipe away non-existent tears with the sleeve of Erwin's robe.

 

Though the rusty scent of blood and viscera lingered in the air, the embalming room was surprisingly clean. The porcelain was spotless, the copper and surgical steel polished, glittering in the bright lights of the sconces.

 

Blowing the match out, Levi flashed a smirk over at his guests, asking, "What did you expect?"

 

"Corpses piled in corners," Erwin half-joked, though Marie shot him a disapproving look for it, "wine glasses filled with blood, coffins as couches, intestines strung up as garland..."

 

" _Intestines as garland_?" Levi seemed amused by the notion. Giving a wry little grin and a shake of his head, he replied, "Only at Christmas."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Levi's cash will be explained, I promise! Erwin is right, y'know: There's more to our tiny little friend than meets the eye!
> 
> Also, I just had to involve Mike. I always involve Mike. He's not to become a major character, but given it gets so little attention in the fandom, I'd say he deserves some attention in fanfic, wouldn't you say? And, as always, he knows more than he should ;)


	6. Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was no scab along the massive wound slicing across her throat, no pus, no traces of blood at all. Marie had gone entirely dry, and Levi glanced up to her eyes, finding them to be equally lifeless. The spark of life was there, but it was burning low, flickering out like a candle in the wind.

"Look up."

 

Surprisingly, Marie did as she was told, casting icy eyes towards the ceiling of the embalming room, her slashed throat opening with the movement. It was grisly, but Levi seemed to be pleased with it just the same, running gloved fingers along the edge of the wound, his other hand at the back of her neck, holding her still for the examination despite her obvious discomfort.

 

"Good girl."

 

Though her chapped lips pursed in irritation at being called such a thing, Marie was obedient, perched at the edge of one of the copper inspection tables set in the center of the room, her hands folded in her lap, clenched white-knuckle tight.

 

And when Levi leaned in for a closer look at the bone-deep gash halving her throat, two fingers holding the oddly clean edges apart, she pulled back.

 

"What?" It sounded like a command.

 

Marie, naturally, gave no verbal response. Instead, she lifted one spidery hand to her throat, pulling the collar of her gown closed over the wound.

 

There was no scab there, no pus, no traces of blood at all. She'd gone entirely dry, and Levi glanced up to her eyes, finding them to be equally lifeless. The spark of life was there, but it was burning low, flickering out like a candle in the wind.

 

"What is it?"

 

Still, she said nothing, did nothing, gave no response whatsoever. It was disheartening, though Levi chose to ignore it.

 

Instead, he moved in to undo the button of her collar again, and she smacked his hand away this time, and he hissed. "Awful spirited for a dead woman." It came out like a curse. When her glare didn't soften, her body still tense, Levi rolled his eyes, turning his attention to Erwin and asking, "She always this touchy?"

 

Perched on a tall stool at Marie's side, Erwin replied, "She's a lady. Ladies aren't typically used to being touched by men they don't know."

 

"She's a snob, y'mean?" Levi seemed to be amused by the notion, firmly grasping Marie's nape and hauling her closer, though the glare he received in response was strangely fearsome.

 

"No." Erwin, alas, was not amused. Marie was a sensitive subject, it seemed, and Levi found himself wondering if Erwin's love-struck mind was aware of the fact that she didn't feel the same for him. It was doubtful. Why use so much time bringing back a woman who had never loved you in the first place? Even Erwin wasn't kind enough to do such a thing. To do so was madness, and he was far from mad, Levi was certain. The vagaries of grief, he figured. " _She's a lady_."

 

"She's a lady," Levi asked, "or she's _a lady_?" The second time around, the word came on a sneer, his disapproval more than obvious. It made sense, really. Undertakers were often considered rather low, and the lower class hardly approved of the aristocracy. Levi, however, had a rather upper-class air to him from time to time, in the straightness of his back, and the arrogance of his words, and the grace of his movements. He was far more than what he seemed. "Are we talking a lady in the general sense, or a lady by title?"

 

"She's a _lady_ ," Erwin said again. "Lady Marie Dawk."

 

At that familiar surname, Levi glanced up, asking, "Dawk? As in _Constable Dawk_?"

 

"Yes."

 

The answer was oddly shaky, and Levi turned his eyes to Marie, searching for any resemblance, but finding none. "What is she, his cousin?" When no answer came, he said instead, "Just hope she's more charming than he is. I'd've claimed him myself, but..." He trailed off, shrugging, a little smirk playing at the edges of his lips.

 

For a moment longer, Erwin was silent. Then, carefully, brow furrowed, voice soft and hesitant, he asked, "What do you mean, you would have _claimed him_?"

 

Catching Erwin's eyes, Levi simply said, "I think you know exactly what I mean."

 

He did, though he dared not say so, merely flushing and looking away. Such talk was no way for a gentleman to behave.

 

"He's rather good-looking, actually." The little smirk on Levi's face was growing, as though he was enjoying making Erwin uncomfortable. Knowing him, as briefly as they had known each other, it was a distinct possibility. "Shame about the personality, though."

 

"Nile is a good man," was all the defense Erwin had to offer, and Marie gave as fervent a nod of agreement as she could with Levi still holding her in place.

 

Levi did nothing to argue that point, at least, and for that, Erwin was grateful. Nile _was_ a good man, really. He could be a bit of a stick in the mud, it was true, but he was a good man, just the same. He was also rather dull, though at least he had ambition. He was interesting, in the dullest sense of the word.

 

"So I take it if you love her," Levi said next, "she's got to be far more charming than the Constable, eh?"

 

"Oh, she is, by far."

 

"How so?"

 

Small talk. How courteous. It was unfitting coming from a man like Levi, and Erwin found himself to be a bit amused by it, though Marie seemed nothing short of irritated. Meeting her eyes, he murmured, "She's beautiful."

 

Levi graced Erwin with a single silver glance before he muttered, " _She's dead_."

 

"She _was_ beautiful." The glare Marie shot Erwin for that was sharp enough to cut diamonds, and he shivered. Again, the words heavy and deliberate, he said, " _She's beautiful_."

 

"S'pose she's rather pretty _for a corpse_..." There was something sly in Levi's voice when he asked, "What else?"

 

What a question! Marie was _beautiful_.

 

But what else was there? She was kind and compassionate and lovely… And utterly dull. Marie was a good person, it was true, a wonderful, generous woman, but she lacked the ambition, _the spark_ that Erwin had been looking for in a life partner.

 

He husband was closer to Erwin's tastes than she herself was.

 

She had been what his father had wanted for him, though.

 

Their arranged marriage had fallen through upon her meeting Nile, however, and Erwin had supposed that he had still needed her. She was _meant_ for him. He needed the world to believe that he loved her. He needed a cover story, and Marie was his best option, even now.

 

He needed a wife, someone to hide his peculiar tastes, and Marie had been the only one to know about it, save Mike, though Mike was another story altogether. Hell, Mike had been _the start_ of those peculiar tastes.

 

Marie was far easier to contain, though. He had been the one to bring her back, after all.

 

She owed him.

 

She _belonged_ to him.

 

 _She had always belonged to him_.

 

"She wasn't even yours, Erwin."

 

Both Erwin and Levi startled at this new voice, and even Marie tensed, tossing her frigid gaze up the staircase at the far side of the room, where a tall, imposing figure stood, backlit by the lights of the mortuary's main room. Though his face was not visible, Erwin could recognize that powerful silhouette and that low, growling voice anywhere. It still sent shivers racing down his spine, just as it had when they had been teenagers.

 

"You're not supposed to be in here," Levi deadpanned, not bothering to look away from his work. "Didn't you see the sign on the door? _Staff only_."

 

Mike paid him no mind, merely descending the stairs and repeating, " _She wasn't even yours, Erwin_."

 

Shaking his head in a mixture of frustration and disgust, Levi called, "Kenny!"

 

There was a groan from up the stairs, followed by a noisy clatter, and Kenny descended the stairs, coming to stand beside Mike, a shoulder-high stick figure in comparison. Smirking a bit, he simply said, "I was getting bored."

 

"So you let an intruder--"

 

"Clearly." At Levi's eye roll, Kenny mirrored the motion. "Baby Springer's ready to go. You can stop all the carry-on."

 

"Has the private room been cleaned?" Levi asked next, though his eyes never strayed from Marie's left hand, where he was busily cleaning her brittle, cracking nails. After each was clean, he rubbed a yellowish, slightly sweet-smelling oil into her cuticles. "And the lobby? You can't just leave your paints lying about."

 

Quickly growing bored again, Kenny replied, "Mikasa's cleaning up now. We got a good hour before anyone starts to show up--"

 

"You know she's less than useless--"

 

Ignoring the little family squabble, Mike stepped around Kenny and Levi to stand at Erwin's side, arms crossed over his broad chest as he all but demanded, " _What have you done_?"

 

"How did you even know--"

 

"Lavender perfume." Of course. It had never occurred to Erwin that Marie still smelled of it. All he smelled on her was formaldehyde. "She's the only person I know who mixed lavender and lemon oil. Now tell me--"

 

"It isn't what you think."

 

"Then tell me _what it is_." Erwin was not a man to be easily intimidated, but Mike... Mike was not a man to be trifled with, raw power flowing off him in waves, sending a familiar bolt of heat shooting down Erwin's spine. " _Tell me what you've done, Erwin_."

 

"I've done," Erwin said, reaching out to grasp Marie's free hand in his, "exactly as I said I would."

 

"You brought her back." It was an accusation.

 

"I brought her back."

 

"You weren't meant to actually _do it_." Mike's disgust was clear. "It was meant to be a whimsy, not an actual--" He sighed, running one hand through sandy hair and meeting Erwin's eyes, steadfastly refusing to look at Marie. "How is this even…?" He didn't want to know, and he stopped the question coming out before Erwin could answer it. "Did Pixis teach you?" he asked instead.

 

"He did."

 

"You know he's a drunk, don't you?" Erwin didn't dignify that with a response. Everyone knew that. "He was a soldier once, and I respect that, but he's gone completely mad, and for you to--"

 

"He isn't mad." It was true, at least to Erwin. Dot Pixis was anything but mad. He was brilliant: A soldier, a philosopher, a magician, a Resurrectionist in more ways than one. "Dot Pixis _is not mad_."

 

"Mad or not," Mike snapped back, "this is wrong, and you know it."

 

Squeezing Marie's hand, Erwin replied, his voice soft, "It's not. There's no one who wouldn't revive a lost love if they had the chance."

 

"They say they would," Mike argued, "but to actually do it--"

 

"You're saying that you wouldn't bring Nana back if you could?" That was a shot below the belt, and Mike's glare showed it in full. "You have five children together, and you're telling me that you wouldn't bring her back, if you could, even if only for the sake of the children?"

 

"How dare you--"

 

" _Enough_." Levi was currently working a sort of flesh-colored putty into the cracks of Marie's knuckles, his brow furrowed in concentration. "I'm trying to work, and if you two are going to fight, I'd rather you take it upstairs."

 

The silence that followed only lasted a few seconds.

 

Mike, at least, had the consideration to keep his voice soft, saying, "She was Nile's wife, not yours."

 

A bit surprised, though still clearly irritated, Levi said nothing, merely going about his work and listening. It was a tad difficult, however, with Marie suddenly tensing, her eyes darting off to the side. Had there been any blood left in her, Levi was sure she would be blushing. She was clearly ashamed.

 

"She was promised to me."

 

There was something almost gentle in Mike's voice when he said, "Erwin, she never even wanted you."

 

"She does now."

 

A roll of green-steel eyes, and Mike growled, "She doesn't know any better!"

 

Giving an irritated little growl of his own, Levi finally looked up to announce, "She doesn't know _anything_."

 

Marie seemed to be offended by that, jerking her hand away from him at tucking it into her lap, her golden-green eyes colder than ever, thin brows drawn into a sharp scowl.

 

"It may look like her," Levi said, quickly grabbing her hand back, "but it isn't her. There's a little of her left, but for the most part, she's just an empty vessel."

 

"She's just getting used to being alive again," was Erwin's argument.

 

It was Mike that shot him down, saying, " _She isn't alive_." When Erwin was clearly unmoved, he glanced to the undertakers for support.

 

While Marie was busy still glaring at Levi, Kenny slipped closer, pressing the calloused pads of his fingers to the side of her neck. Her skin was cool, and after a few seconds, he pulled back, shooting a look of concern down at his nephew.

 

Erwin seemed more concerned the longer Kenny was quiet, and he soon asked, "What is it?"

 

When those silvery eyes met Erwin's, Kenny announced, "There's no pulse."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're finally getting into the meat of Erwin's not being perfect the perfect gentleman he seems to be, and I am super excited! It's kind of a relief, actually, to write an imperfect Erwin. It feels... Fresh, I guess? I'm greatly enjoying it. What about you guys? I really hope you're having as grand a time with this fic as I am! 
> 
> Also, Levi officially comes out (Though who wasn't expecting it? :P) with a tiny hint of NaiRi... You know, Nile x Levi? Secret OTP, man. Nile is one of my favorites :)
> 
> And Mike and Nana... So sad. But Mike's taking good care of their children, don't worry. And we get a little of his backstory with E, too! And, oops, it's another one-sided romance! Erwin has too many of those... While Mike will be appearing in two or three more chapters, I don't know how much of him we'll be seeing. There's a later scene in a pub where we may learn some, but, alas... We'll just have to wait and see if I can squeeze him in


	7. Everything Changed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I've changed, Mike." The words were soft, hesitant, and Erwin could not bring himself to meet Mike's eyes as he spoke. "I wanted you when we were children, but believe me, things are different now." Different indeed, exactly as Levi had said. Erwin himself was different. He was no longer the hormone-driven teenager he had once been. He was a man now, his desires all but undeniable, though somehow, Mike was no longer one of those desires. It felt half a betrayal. "I've changed."

Night was quickly falling over the East End of London, drenching the dilapidated streets in evening shadows and flickering candlelight and melting snow. The crowds that had streamed by the little mortuary on Cheshire Street had thinned considerably, the sound dying down to angry shouts and drunken cackles and the dull, rolling _thud_ of passing carriage wheels.

 

Occasionally, the wail of a frightened child rang out from the oily darkness.

 

It was eerie.

 

With Erwin's housedress returned to its place around her shoulders, Marie cautiously stepped out into the chilling air, Erwin, Levi and Mike following close behind her. Neither Kenny nor Mikasa had seen fit to grace her with their presence any longer, and she didn't seem to be particularly bothered by it. She had been, however, immensely cheered to see that the Springer baby was no longer occupying the front room of the mortuary.

 

She was hesitant, though, to be outside in such a place as Spitalfields, particularly in the night. It wasn't safe, she was sure of it, though she had no real way of communicating that to her impromptu entourage. Despite her discomfort with such action, she kept herself as close to Erwin's side as she could.

 

At the curb just outside the mortuary, tethered by a heavy kettle weight, was Mike's little Hansom, his Friesian horse pawing nervously at the street as the party approached.

 

It wasn't the group as a whole that had the horse nickering, but Marie herself, and when she stepped a bit too close, mere feet away, the horse reared, screaming. Marie's gasp ripped itself from the gash in her throat when Erwin pulled her into his arms and as far from the horse as he could get, their shoulders pressed to the brick of the mortuary's front wall.

 

At their side stood Levi, his silvery eyes narrowed on Marie, though she paid him no mind, merely watching in silence as the horse stamped angry hooves against the cobblestones.

 

Mike, for his part, paid no mind to any of them, saying only, " _Edwina_." It was little more than a whisper, but the horse _did_ calm somewhat, still uneasy as her owner stepped up to her side, hands running gently along her flank, soothing the trembling muscles along her sides. "Calm down, girl." He slid one hand through her ginger-colored mane, murmuring into her perked, twitching ears, " _It's all right_."

 

With Marie still pressed tight to his side, Erwin murmured, clearly distressed, "I've never seen her act like that."

 

"It's an animal thing," was Mike's reply, one large hand stroking along the horse's muzzle, his eyes on hers, green steel on mirror-black. "They can tell when people aren't trustworthy."

 

Erwin's brow furrowed at that, and he said, only half sure of it, "Marie is a perfectly good--"

 

"Marie isn't human," Mike interrupted, glancing over his shoulder with narrowed eyes. "You can't be a good person if you aren't human."

 

"He's got a point," Levi added with a shrug.

 

Ignoring the barbs, Erwin pulled the door of the carriage open, helping Marie inside, only to be stopped from entering it himself by a pale hand at his elbow. Shutting Marie inside, he turned to face the smaller man. "Levi?" he asked.

 

"The East End is dangerous," was all the undertaker had to say.

 

Huffing as he climbed onto the back of the carriage, reins in hand, Mike said, clearly impatient, "We need to get going. It's getting dark, and I'm not fond of this area after sun--"

 

Erwin cut him off with a raised hand and a soft, "Give us a moment."

 

Though Mike was obviously irritated by the suggestion, he was silent.

 

Casting a smug little grin up at the cabbie, Levi steeled himself. Meeting ocean-blue eyes with his own, he pulled a sheathed blade from his pocket, pressing it into Erwin's leather-gloved hand. "I don't think anyone's gonna come after you with something like _her_ around, but..." He shrugged again. He glanced up at Mike next, all but commanding, "Keep him safe."

 

Sneering, Mike called down, "What should it matter to you?"

 

"Maybe there's something interesting about him." Levi's eyes were still on Erwin as he spoke, hooded and wanting. That look was breathtaking, and it took all Erwin had to hold himself back. Had there been no audience, he was certain that things would be playing out rather differently. He did his best not to dwell on it, though Levi seemed focused upon it with ironclad determination, if the longing in his dark, dark eyes was any indication. "Maybe he's _different_."

 

"And how would you know?" Mike's hands were fisted tight around his horse's reins, though he was careful not to pull on them. Edwina was tense enough already. "You two've only just met."

 

"He's got what I want." The silken shadows in Levi's eyes had crept into his voice, and Erwin felt his mouth go dry.

 

"And what's that?" Mike wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know.

 

Neither was Erwin.

 

" _Money_."

 

It was said so candidly that Erwin could do nothing to hold back a chuckle, and Levi cast a playful wink up at him.

 

Mike's eyes rolled at that, and he asked, "Are you two done now?"

 

"Not quite yet." That tone set Erwin's cheeks to flushing, and Levi stepped closer to him, mere inches away when he demanded, his voice soft and breathy, " _Give it to me_."

 

Erwin's voice was equally breathless when he asked, "Give it...?"

 

Now it was Levi's eyes rolling, though he smiled just the same. " _Pay me_."

 

"Oh." Clearing his throat, his face still flushed, Erwin reached into one of the inner pockets of his coat to retrieve his billfold, placing the knife Levi had given him in another pocket. "How much do I owe you?" he asked, his voice rough and awkward. He was a bit startled, though, when Levi grabbed the entire wallet, sliding a few small bills free.

 

"This'll do." He hadn't even looked at the bills.

 

"Are you--

 

" _This'll do_." Tucking the bills into his trouser pocket and handing the billfold back, Levi caught Erwin's eyes again, saying, "Come back in three days. I prob'ly oughta keep an eye on your lady's progress, yeah?"

 

There was an offer in those words, a promise to see each other again, and Erwin smiled as he watched Levi head back into the mortuary.

 

Sighing, Erwin cast his eyes down to study the blade Levi had given him. It was a small dagger, the handle carved of what appeared to be ivory, the sheath made of fine, buttery leather. Sliding it free, it was revealed that the blade itself was razor-sharp, and of startlingly high quality. Where would an undertaker have come across such a fine blade?

 

"Prob'ly nicked it," Mike suddenly said. He had always had a way of knowing exactly what Erwin was thinking.

 

Smiling to himself, an odd mixture of apprehension and anticipation bubbling within him, Erwin tucked the blade away again, out of sight, but certainly not out of mind. Turning toward the road again, glancing up to snag silver-green eyes with cerulean, he asked, "May I ride on the back? I'd like to get some air, if I may."

 

Though he looked slightly troubled by the suggestion, Mike nodded his agreement, watching in silence as Erwin climbed up onto the back of the Hansom, standing at his side.

 

"Everything all right?" the cabbie asked.

 

Obviously, it wasn't. Erwin's brows were drawn together, his lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes downcast and distant. "I'm fine." It sounded forced. At the same time, it sounded wistful.

 

Though it was clear that Erwin was distressed by something, Mike did not pry. He'd learned long ago that there was no sense in trying to speak to Erwin when he fell into his thoughts like this.

 

He snapped the reins in his hands instead, and Edwina took to the cobblestone streets.

 

The frigid air was cleansing, and Erwin breathed deep of it, ice crystals blossoming over his lungs and all throughout his chest, encasing his heart in protective hoarfrost, frozen and safe. His hands, leather-gloved, grasped at the cold bar along the back of the Hansom, his blue, blue eyes wandering the frosty streets of the East End as they clattered their way down the near-empty road.

 

Soon they were a fair way from the mortuary, not far from St. Paul's Cathedral, the dome clearly visible along the skyline, the golden cross atop it sparkling in the light of the moon.

 

Clearing his throat, Mike finally spoke, asking, candid as ever, "You want him?"

 

"Of course not." Erwin replied far too quickly for it to be convincing, hands tightening at the bar, his eyes steadfastly refusing to so much as dart in Mike's direction.

 

"He obviously wants you." That much, there was no point in denying. "Looking at you like that in public view. _Unbelievable_."

 

"Mike." It sounded almost like a warning.

 

"Not really your type, though. You lean more towards blondes, don'cha? That student of yours-- Arlert? He seems more up your alley. Whatever happened to him? Did his parents find out what you two were doing during those so-called _tutoring sessions_?"

 

" _Mike_." This time, it truly _was_ a warning.

 

Pursing his lips, Mike gave only a momentary pause. "Guess he's rather pretty, though, 'specially considering his age." There was something almost sly in Mike's voice, something sharp in his silver-green eyes. "Looks half a Molly, don't you think?"

 

Now, that was going just a bit too far, Erwin thought. There was something delicate about Levi, yes, but he was hardly _pretty_. There certainly wasn't anything Molly-like about him. Somehow, though, _handsome_ didn't quite suit him. _Lovely_ was a better fit, though it still felt too feminine. Fragile and tiny though he was, Levi was all male. Truth be told, that subtle sense of power and control, that strange _ferocity_ was a major part of what had attracted Erwin to him in the first place. To own up to such a thing, though… Such things were not only societally unacceptable, they were also illegal, and the legal code was in place for a reason. Or so Erwin liked to tell himself. He was no pillar of virtue, he knew. Just the same…

 

"He wants you like mad, y'know."

 

"Mike," he said, the lie sitting foul on his tongue, "it's a one-sided attraction. I have no interest in Levi."

 

"Don't lie to me, Erwin."

 

It was nearly a command, and Erwin did his best to restrain his responding shiver. "I'm not--"

 

"You think I can't tell when you want someone?" Mike asked, his voice soft, nearly drowned out by the clashing of cobblestones beneath Edwina's shoed hooves. "You think I don't know that look in your eyes when it's been on me all these years?"

 

"Mike, I've never..."

 

At Mike's knowing look, Erwin sighed, glancing away.

 

They were somewhere along the Victoria Embankment now, and the Thames was visible from the road, frozen over and flecked with snow, the boats tethered along the shore iced in place until Spring. Of course Mike knew, Erwin thought, bitter as the winter winds whipping at his face. Mike _always_ knew. To admit it, though, was too much. "That would be completely inappropriate," Erwin managed, his voice weak. "The class difference alone..." He trailed off, running a gloved hand through his hair, pushing it back and letting the snowflakes flutter over his face, ice crystals blistering their way into his eyes. It did nothing to clear his head. "And we're both men, and--"

 

"You know I don't care about that."

 

Thank God for that. "Just the same," was Erwin's defense. "It's _wrong_."

 

"You don't believe that."

 

Of course he didn't. He didn't dare allow such a brash statement to go unopposed, though. "Yes, I do."

 

There was a pause then, and Mike said, slowly, deliberately, "You're a good liar, Erwin, but you know you can't fool me."

 

Another pause, this one heavier, and Erwin looked away again.

 

It was true, what Mike had said. No one knew him as well as Mike did, not even Petra, and she'd been in his service for nearly a decade. Even Marie didn't know him as well as Mike did. Mike could see straight through him, no matter how thick the façade he hid behind.

 

It had been one of the things that had attracted him in the first place.

 

"Just be careful, all right?" Years ago, mere months ago, even, that tone would have set Erwin alight. Now… "You could get into a good deal of trouble running with someone like him."

 

That concern was appreciated, but somehow, it felt different than it used to.

 

Things were _different_ now.

 

Mike had Nana, or at least the memory of her, and he had their children, five wild, reckless little boys that had far too much of their mother's spark in their blood.

 

Erwin, for his part, had Marie. She was _his_ now. She owed him her _very life_.

 

And Erwin had Levi. Lovely, fierce, sharp-tongued little Levi... Unacceptable though it was, there was nothing that Erwin could to deny that attraction, if only in the privacy of his mind. He barely knew the boy, it was true, but there was a promise of seeing each other again, at least, what with Marie's condition. Never before had Erwin considered a trip to a mortuary as possibly being a good thing.

 

But things were not as they once were.

 

"I've changed, Mike." The words were soft, hesitant, and Erwin could not bring himself to meet Mike's eyes as he spoke, training his eyes on the bare-branched trees of St. James's Park as they passed it by. "I wanted you when we were children, but believe me, things are different now." _Different_ indeed, exactly as Levi had said. Erwin himself was different. He was no longer the hormone-driven teenager he had once been. He was a man now, his desires all but undeniable, though somehow, Mike was no longer one of those desires. It felt half a betrayal. "I've _changed_."

 

Now it was Mike's turn to sigh, and he said, very softly, "That's what worries me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexual tension at last! Yes! No real romantic interest yet, though. That won't come until later. And more of Erwin's illicit past relationships! I'm a bit WinMin shipper, actually! One day, I might actually write something for it...
> 
> Ooh, ooh, and I have a headcanon that probably won't get to make it into the story! You know how Mike and Nana have a bunch of kids (Five boys, to be precise, all less that ten years old)? Well, Mike's horse is really loved by the children. She's considered their family pet, actually :) I have no idea what made me name her Edwina, though. Is Edwina an acceptable name for a horse? I've never owned a horse, so I'm really not sure.
> 
> But Mike is being a bit of a douchenozzle this time around. He's just concerned for his friend. Wouldn't you be? Especially with Levi's little innuendos... I think this is the last we'll be seeing of Mike for a few chapters, but on the bright side, we get more Petra in the next chapter, and Petra is always good! :)

**Author's Note:**

> I am SO excited to start on this project. My roots lie in horror, and I get the feeling that this story shall be everything I've ever wanted to write, all in the same place! Hope you guys enjoy it!
> 
> Excited for the next chapter? Have constructive criticism or even just silly comments to add? Let me know! And as always, I must mention that I go by SandCastleVirtues on Tumblr, and I'm totally open to taking questions and comments there! :)


End file.
